#it’s fun it’s a little camp it’s fun when things don’t make sense and the show refuses to explain itself

[samglyph]

I hate to say this with what the browser users have been going through. But sadly the one piece live action show is pretty good

[steviescrystals]

my tags on the post i just reblogged got me thinking so here’s my current stream of consciousness

[supercutszns]

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

[venus-haze]

Power Play (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: So, you lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship. It happens all the time. Maybe not quite like this.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Crazy ass 80s Vought debauchery. I might be a little rusty, but it was fun getting back into writing readerfics after two months🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Power imbalance, cheating (Soldier Boy’s with Crimson Countess). Mentions of drug use. Soldier Boy is his own warning. Sexually explicit content involving elements of forced intox, semi-public sex, breeding kink.

You were dizzy. With Vought’s investor gala rapidly approaching, you spent the better part of your day camped out in your office, flipping back and forth through your rolodex to call and confirm catering, entertainment—you still couldn’t believe the board of directors actually approved Duran Duran’s booking fee—and transportation, off the top of your head. You already told Stan Edgar you were taking the following week off, which he had no qualms about—so long as the gala went off without a hitch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you were interrupted by a knock at your office door, which you’d left open in an effort to be available in the lead up to the event.

“Don’t tell me Edgar’s got you working tonight,” Soldier Boy said, walking in when he saw he had your attention.

“The most important night of the year is less than a week away and I still have a to-do list as long as your dick, so, yeah.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Must be pretty busy then.”

“How about you? Where’s Countess?” you asked.

Soldier Boy probably would have sought you out even if Crimson Countess were around, but from what you’d been hearing through Vought’s extensive grapevine, they were in yet another rough patch. Though, it seemed to you like their relationship was one long, extremely rough patch with some calm once in a blue moon. You weren’t afraid to admit to yourself that you ate up the gossip of their relationship like candy, especially when the other members of Payback—including Countess herself—would rant to Edgar about it. Since your office was right next to his, and most supes had little to no sense of subtlety, you could hear just about everything.

“She’s at one of those wildlife charity things, pandas or some bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “Bitched at me because I wouldn’t go. She won’t be back until Friday.”

“Soldier Boy, I can’t just—“

“Sure you can. I mean, I’m technically your boss too, aren’t I?” he asked. “So, I say there’s no harm in taking a ten, fifteen minute break. Relieve some stress.”

You sighed. It had been a while since you actually got up from your desk. “Alright. Fifteen minutes, tops.”

He grinned. “Now we’re talking. You keep that minibar stocked?”

“Pick your poison.”

“Whiskey?”

“Sure.”

At least, you were pretty sure. The minibar in your office served as a nice gesture for the variety of people who’d come into your office for meetings related to all of the aspects of event planning you were in charge of. Over the past few weeks, though, you’d been reaching for bottles of whatever you could find to relieve the stress. Powdered your nose every so often, but tried not to make that a habit—not that you blamed your coworkers who did. Working at Vought was brutal and demanding, but hell, who else got to work with superheroes? Especially handsome, smarmy assholes who knew just how to fuck the lingering thoughts of any deadline or event planning out of your mind if you played your cards right. 

He handed you a shot glass. “What should we toast to?”

“To taking next week off.”

“Yeah? What’ve you got planned?”

You threw back your shot. “Nothing.”

“That’s no fun. How does a few days in Miami sound?”

You nearly scoffed. Of course he could make something like that happen on such short notice. For forty years running he was America’s superhero and Vought’s cash cow. After a night of schmoozing at the investor gala, he could very well clear out his schedule and fuck off for a week of sun, sand, and sex, too.

“I might need some convincing.”

“Then make yourself comfortable,” he said, walking back to the minibar to pour another shot for each of you. Almost comical, he’d have to drink the whole bottle and then some to feel the same way you did after two shots.

You glanced at the open door. “Someone might see.”

“Are you gonna make me repeat myself?”

Sparing the door one more glance, you worked at unbuttoning your blouse, tossing it aside. You shimmied out of your skirt and let it fall to the floor. 

“Heels stay on,” he said, his back to you. “Everything else off. Everything.”

With a hesitant huff, you unhooked your bra and pulled off your panties, throwing them in his direction when he turned around with the shot glasses. You made yourself comfortable on top of your desk, pushing some of your belongings aside to accommodate you.

He whistled lowly as you quickly finished off the second shot he gave you. “Look at you sitting pretty for me.” His green eyes burned a hole through you, though your gaze was fixed on the prominent bulge in his pants. He brought his shot glass to your lips. “Drink up, sweetheart.”

And you did, forcing the alcohol down as your vision blurred with tears at the unrelenting burning in the back of your throat. Felt some whiskey dripping from the corners of your mouth when you drained the shot glass. He collected the excess from your lips with his thumb, sucking it clean as he kept his eyes locked with yours.

“See how much fun we have together?” he asked, leaning over you until you laid back on top of your desk. “Could do that all next week.”

He kissed you, hard and mean like you needed him to. Perfect teeth that caught your bottom lip between them for a moment before releasing. Whiskey on his tongue that went to your head even though you knew he could hardly feel it. Rough hands feeling up your breasts, giving your nipples a harsh tug that made you moan in his mouth.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice husky as he rubbed his fingers between your slick folds with tantalizingly slow strokes. “If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“What was that?” 

You groaned in frustration. “Just fuck me already.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

His mouth was on yours again, nearly distracting you from the sound of a zipper, the your gut clenching in anticipation as he pulled his cock from his pants.

It’d been a while since you had to brace yourself to take him, but you were wet, and maybe a little more than tipsy, so your body gave little resistance when he slid his cock inside you. Though, if Soldier Boy were anything, it was a guy who took what he wanted anyway, giving you hardly a second to get used to the feeling of how his cock stretched your pussy before he was pounding into you with harsh, unforgiving thrusts that made you grip the edge of your desk. 

Sometimes you forgot how strong he was. Hell, so did he, and there was little else you could do but lay there and take what he gave you. In all honesty, it was nice letting someone else take charge after having to hold it together all day. Let him fuck the stress out of you and replace it with all the aches and bruises that came with having sex with the strongest man on earth. 

“Harder,” you forced out, pushing that damn rolodex onto the floor.

“I go any harder, I’m gonna break you in half, and I don’t wanna do that until I’ve got you locked away in a hotel room for a week.”

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“Whatever the fuck I want. Not like I don’t already.”

You moaned. “Soldier Boy—”

“I’m not pulling out, so you better be on the pill or say your damn prayers,” he growled, his hot breath kissing your skin. You were on the pill, but nevertheless your hips bucked at his words, pussy clenching around his cock. “Oh shit, you want that, don’t you?”

“Yes—oh my god!” you cried out, muscles cramping as your orgasm pulsed through you, pleasure stealing your breath, choking you gently enough to leave you dizzy. “Yesyesyes—fuck!” Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was going to explode in your chest, especially as he kept mercilessly pounding into you, chasing his own release. 

He soon came with a groan, his cock twitching inside you as he bottomed out, practically knocking the wind out of you with a particularly hard thrust. 

You felt empty and sticky when he pulled out, and you didn’t want to think about the poor soul who was gonna be cleaning the mess you and him left behind the following morning, because you sure as hell weren’t in any shape to clean up the cum that was leaking out of you and onto the floor.

You put your hands on your chest, trying to catch your breath as he stood over you. The guy hardly broke a sweat, and you felt like you just ran the New York City Marathon. Super stamina. God fucking bless America.

“Hey,” he said, waving his hand in front of your face. “You good?”

“Sure,” you managed to answer. “Except now I don’t know how I’m gonna walk out of here, let alone get home later.”

“The ride up to the 99th is quicker. And if you need more convincing about Miami—“

You pursed your lips, considering the work you still had left to do before you could reasonably call it a night. But you were tired, and admittedly drunk, and Soldier Boy was already hard again. “I might.”

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”

Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”

“Solace!”

Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”

Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”

She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”

“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”

Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.

———

“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”

Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”

The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”

“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”

Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”

———

Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.

He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.

Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.

Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.

He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.

And therein lies the trouble.

“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”

Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”

“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”

“No, and then make you my partner forever.”

“Oh.”

Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)

“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”

Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.

His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.

The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.

The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.

The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.

Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.

Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.

As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.

He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.

“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”

Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.

“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.

Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.

“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”

“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.

“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”

“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.

Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.

The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.

With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.

As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.

But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.

For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.

Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —

The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.

It’s Harley.

Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.

Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.

There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.

As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

———

Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.

There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.

There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.

As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.

“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.

Nico understands.

“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”

He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”

He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.

As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.

“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.

“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”

Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.

Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.

He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.

“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.

He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.

Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.

He trudges forward.

“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”

Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.

“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”

He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…

He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.

Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.

“It hurts,” she croaks.

She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Help me. Please.”

“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.

He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.

“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.

He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.

———

“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.

“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.

Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”

“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”

Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”

“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”

She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.

“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”

“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”

Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.

“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”

The tactic works.

Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.

“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.

“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”

Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.

“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”

Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.

“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”

Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.

“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”

Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.

“Come here.”

Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.

Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.

“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”

Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”

“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”

His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.

“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.

Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”

Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“As long as you need.”

———

The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.

Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.

“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.

Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”

“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”

Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.

“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”

Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”

Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”

“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.

“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”

Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.

“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”

———

On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.

“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”

Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.

“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”

“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”

“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.

Competition will be hefty.

Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.

Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.

There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.

The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.

The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.

Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.

They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.

Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.

As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.

With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.

Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.

Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.

Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.

If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.

All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.

Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.

Will hesitates.

The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.

It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.

The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.

The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.

———

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”

Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”

Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”

While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.

“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.

He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.

Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.

On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.

He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.

“Will.”

Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”

He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.

Will comes easily.

With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”

Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.

“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”

He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.

“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”

For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.

When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.

Until Will.

Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.

He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.

“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.

———

By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.

Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”

“What if I’ll never have enough time?”

“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong.”

“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”

They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.

“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

“And you resent her for it, a little.”

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”

“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”

Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.

“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”

Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”

‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.

“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”

He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”

“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Not in front of anyone.”

“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”

“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.

“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”

[brabblesblog]

Sounds like a plan.

Drabble set right after act II’s confession scene. What if Tav didn’t feel quite alright with Astarion’s manipulation, and tried to just go along with it for his sake?

Angst with a happy ending. Also a tiny bit of Gale. Enjoy!

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

He starts to notice when you stop smiling at him.

Oh, you'd smirk and laugh when talking to him, but that wasn't it - you just didn't smile.

That one he'd craved so much to see, the one that made your eyes crinkle and your nose flare a little. That smile. He hadn't seen it since the night he confessed his feelings to you.

He’d worry about it more, if you two didn’t spend every waking moment together. If you didn’t move into his tent. Didn’t cuddle with him every night, and woke up tangled in his arms every dawn.

So he put it aside for now. Your relationship was a new and fragile thing, and he dared not risk it.

That is, until he noticed you smiling like that with Gale. Astarion had just been walking back to camp from a hunt, when he had heard your voice and Gale’s and had inadvertently began to eavesdrop.

You had been sitting by the campfire with the wizard, reading one of those raunchy romance novels Shadowheart had given you. The two of you were huddled close together, knees touching, chortling and snorting as you read the passages aloud.

“I don’t think elves have… appendages of that size,” Gale remarks after a particularly salacious line. “Would they?” He shoots you a particularly nasty smirk.

You laugh, all pretense thrown aside. “I haven’t seen enough elf cock to know,” you mumble. “Or any other type of cock, for that matter.”

Gale chuckles. “You’ve been sleeping with one, have you not?” There is a small note of sadness in Gale’s voice when he says this, and you note it. You had turned the wizard down for Astarion.

The laugh that was about to come out of you dies at Gale’s words. You remember sleeping with Astarion, remember how your relationship started, how-

You shake your head, trying to clear out those thoughts. You want to just have fun right now, not think about your complicated situation. Gale notices, and he closes the spicy book. He looks to you, those large eyes holding nothing but affection and concern for you.

“Is something the matter? Anything you need, I’ll be there,” he reminds. He may not be your partner, but he’s still one of your closest friends in camp.

“Actually.” You weigh your options. No one seemed to be here at camp, and so you decide to confide in your friend. “Yes. There.. there is a problem. With.. with Astarion and I.”

Astarion initially rolls his eyes as he hears this conversation. It’s just banter, and he doesn’t mind. What made him stay there and listen in for a moment was the sound of your laughter. It was so genuine and he had not heard it in what felt like forever. He felt a pang of jealousy that of all people, Gale had been the one to bring it out of you. As he prepared to go back to your shared tent, he finally heard you mention his name. He froze, immediately rooted to the spot by fear. He had to know what was wrong. He had to fix it before you left him.

Gale puts a comforting hand on your knee. “Then I will lend you my ears. I shall keep your confidence.”

“It’s- it’s hard to explain,” you begin, speaking gently. “Does it make sense if I say I understand why he would do something he did, but it hurts anyways?”

“More than you know,” Gale replies somberly. “You understand their reasons. Sympathize, even. But you can’t help how you feel.” He pauses, considering it. “Does he know?”

“No.” You shake your head, answering without hesitation. “I didn’t want to give him more things to worry about. He..”

He already has too many things on his plate, you figured, and your petty little issues are nothing compared to what he’s going through.

Gale nods. “And you didn’t want to burden him. I understand.” He clears his throat. “I’m not a good choice for advice regarding relationships, however- it’s common knowledge that hiding things from each other so early on is a portent for disaster. I hope you know that.”

“I know, Gale,” you say, your tone sharpening. Then you let out a sigh, forcing yourself to calm down. “I just don’t want to hurt him any more than he’s already been hurt. I can’t hate him for what he did to me, but I want to hate him for how much it hurts.”

Your voice breaks at the last moment, and you bury yourself in Gale’s shoulder. He wraps a comforting arm around you, letting you finally let out those feelings you’ve been bottling in.

“I thought,” you gasp, “that he’d finally be the one person to actually want me for me.”

Astarion, hidden in the periphery of the camp, sees and hears everything. He keeps silent, as his own heart rips at the sound of your sobbing. Of course. How could he have been so blind? How could he have just assumed you were okay with what he did? After his confession, you had said everything was okay, and he had taken it at face value.

Gods damned it, Astarion thinks. As the conversation dies and you gradually shift to just sobbing into Gale’s shoulder, Astarion slips away.

You head back to your shared tent and hour or so later, opening the flaps. To your surprise, your lover sits there. He snaps upwards the moment your face pokes in, as if he had been waiting for just that exact moment.

“You’re back early,” you say, slipping in and closing the flap behind you. You drop to your knees and crawl towards the bedroll beside him, exhausted.

“Caught a boar quite early on. I daresay I got a bit lucky,” is the reply, delivered in a tone that just sounded off to your ears. He moves to wrap an arm around you, pulling you close to him. “And you, darling? Catching up with the wizard?” He tries to go for nonchalant, and absolutely fails it.

You notice it then, the way he’s actually not even breathing. The way his chest is stiff as a board, the way his fingers tremble.

“Astarion,” you squeeze your eyes shut. “You heard.”

“Every word,” he says, a pained sigh escaping his lips. His arm stops pulling you close. You turn to face him, and you see his face, more pained than you have ever seen him before. When he had confessed, he looked frightened. This time he looked resigned. You watch him clench his jaw, preparing to say the words he knew he should say.

Astarion takes a small, sharp breath. He meets your gaze.

“I hurt you.” The statement is quiet, emotionless. “You shouldn’t have told me you were okay, darling. You should have let me know.” His jaw works again, and he struggles to say the next words.

“I’ve put your things in your pack. You can leave whenever you wish.”

He tries not to cry. Not to beg for you to stay. Because you deserve to go. You deserve real, and if you can’t be real with him, then he isn’t the one who deserves you. Swallowing, his hand caresses your cheek. “I am sorry.”

Sorry he can’t give you what you deserve. Sorry he hurt you. Sorry he was what he was.

You sit up. You try to see what he’s thinking, to see if this relationship still had anything to salvage. But here in the dark, it’s very hard to tell. You brace yourself; the thing missing here was communication, and you’ll be damned if you don’t try to do just that before it all blows up.

“Do you want this, Astarion? Us?”

A quick, quiet hiss of pain breaks the silence. His eyes brighten, filling up with tears. They don’t fall just yet.

“Yes. Gods, yes.”

Your own shoulders drop, and you exhale.

“Then I’m going nowhere. But I suppose we should talk about what you overheard.”

He exhales, relief flooding his features. The guardedness isn’t quite gone yet, however. He makes no move to close the gap. Instead he sits up, matching your position.

“What else is there to say? I manipulated you. You felt a lot less gracious about it than you originally thought. Seems about the sum of it, no?”

There is a little defensiveness there. As if he’s already building walls in the event of your departure.

“Somewhat, but not quite.” You clear your throat. “I don’t blame you. I’m not upset at you. Or resentful. Or whatever else you think I am. Before anything else, I want you to know that.”

His eyes widen, surprised. He had overheard the conversation; he should have known this. But hearing it so directly said was different. You can see his shoulders sag as the tension leaves his body, as that terrible knot in his heart starts to loosen. He nods, acknowledging your statement and an encouragement to continue.

“I’m just hurt.” That was the root of all of it, really. “I’m hurt, but I didn’t want you to know. You already suffer so much, that it felt…” you trail off, trying to find the words.

“Frivolous, darling?” He suggests. As you nod he continues. “Just because I’m going through things doesn’t mean there’s no space… for your feelings,” he begins tentatively. He takes one more small breath, then reaches across to take your hand, just like he did that night he confessed.

“I’ve spent two hundred years carrying my own burdens. You have shared my load. Please. Let me lighten yours too.”

You scan his face, on instinct, trying to see any signs of insincerity. There is none. His eyes are round and open, and his hand remains on yours, palm up, an invitation for you to come to him.

You choke back tears, leaning forward to touch your foreheads together. “It’s just that I wished you were.. that we started differently. That you wanted me..”

“For you,” he says, repeating what you said to Gale. “I know. And I might not have, at the start. I might have seen you as a means to an end.”

He gathers his courage and moves to wrap his arms around you. “But now I do,” he whispers against your ear. “I want you for you.”

You melt into his arms then, moulding yourself to his torso as you cry yet again. But unlike your tears when talking to Gale, this feels like relief. Like home.

He shushes you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You said you aren’t upset at all. But you can. We can..” he thinks for a moment, then proceeds. “We can take some time apart, if that’s what you want. We can take a step back and see if we can end up back here again.”

Saying that felt like torture for him. But he knew it needed to be said. You needed to have that option.

You shake your head. “No. I’m- I would very much rather be in this, whatever this is,” you say with a teary laugh. “But you’re right. I think I’ll still need some time to go through it and accept everything.”

“Just don’t forget, Astarion. It’s not your fault. It’s not,” you say vehemently. “I’m just hurt, but I’m not holding you responsible.”

He wants to protest, but knows better than to. Instead he nods. Carefully he cups your face in his hands, and you shiver as his cool palms make contact with your wet cheeks.

He kisses the tears away, each kiss a soft, feather-light brush against your skin.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. For your kindness. For your forgiveness and grace. For your love, although he couldn’t even use that word yet, even to himself. For the gift of yourself, always so generously given, from the very start.

He wishes he could someday live up to your love. That he would be worth everything you give him. He tries to voice this out.

“If you’re staying, then… it gives me a challenge, mm?” He tries to smile. “I’ll try to be worth the trouble. But no promises, darling.”

You huff out a laugh. This beautiful, strong, insufferable man. How could he think he wasn’t worth it to you? But you understood. You felt the same way.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say. “As for me, well. I don’t imagine I’ll ever be worth all that, either.”

“Then we’ll be worthless together,” he says without missing a beat. If you only knew how special he thought you were. How worthy. How you make him want to be better.

He presses his lips to yours, finally. Sealing your words together. A promise for you two to share each other’s burdens. Together.

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree.

[lady-ashfade]

Blood And Pressure

Part three

Yandere!Pjo × Fem!Grisha!reader. (Platonic Yandere gods) (romantic!various characters)

-♡ Chapters: Previous // Next

-♡ characters: Percy Jackson, Luke Castellan, Clarisse La Rue, Annabeth Chase, Grover Underwood

-♡ this is a shadow & bone slight crossover. Reader is a heartrender and that's all really (maybe more in the future!)

-♡ Please note that all characters are aged appropriately, so all characters are older versions of the book characters. So 17-19 characters for these, you can choose any of them really. Just that they are older teens. (Except for Clarisse and Luke at pjo show actors)

-♡ warnings: short, yandere behaviors, obsession, stalking, slightly sick love, possessive, manipulative, gaslighting, platonic yandere too, blood powers, powerful powers but not godly, and future warnings when more chapters come out. (Luke will be back don’t worry)

“Well,” you sigh and look at Percy with sadness but tried to not show it. In this short time you had someone who dispute just meeting you, gave you something you wanted for as long as you have been here. A friend.

“You’ll be great here. Luke will take care of you.” Percy gripped the straps of his backpack at his name on your lips.

“Yeah, he seems nice..” he looked past your shoulder at the boy that must have been a year older then him. But he was much larger then he was..more muscular and a few inches taller.

“It’s hard to be in a new place, trust me I know that.” You paused for a second and he could see you running over your thoughts. Before he could piece together anything you wrapped your arms around him and embraced him.

He was stunned in place as his chest become breathless at being close to you. This was his chance, so he wrapped his arms around you and smiled at how your hair smelled sweet.

“Thank you Percy,” you whispered while still holding so tightly onto him. You cared little about anything else.

“For what?”

“Giving me a friend for as long as I can.” You pulled back from him and stepped away with a embarrassed expression. Before percy could reply, Chiron called your name and you gave him one last look and walked away.

You walked out the cabin beside the centaur with your legs practically dragging.

You felt sick to your stomach while thinking of being back in the house and being stuck there again with no one your age to hang out with. You stared at the ground while waking and you could feel Chirons gaze on you but you didn’t bother looking up.

Deep down you knew you weren’t supposed to be here. It didn’t make sense to you but you blacked out everything before this “camp” and only pieces came back to you. You remember someone training you…you remembered your powers and how to use them. And, you remember the book you had- the only thing of your old life. But not what you are.

“It’s just a silly little story,” you overheard the first night in the big house. “Just let her keep it.” Chiron convinced the god.

Now you got a taste of freedom you didn’t want to go back. You wanted to be with people your own age, you wanted friends. You think i’d go insane to spend another week trapped in that place.

“So,” a new voice creeped up in your ears. You both come to a stop and you find yourself looking up. A new girl. She was beautiful but her harsh glare and muscles set a shiver down your spine. Her eyes looked you up and down causing you to shift uncomfortably.

“She’s finally out of her cage.” Her teeth poked out from her smile and for some reason it reminded you of a shark or a lion…like she hunted pray for fun, and you were her next kill.

“Clarisse, lovely to see you.” The man smiled softly but his voice sounded different like a warning of some sort. “We are just going back, is there anything you need?” You throat goes dry when she starts to step closer to you.

“What is she? No one at camp knows but you guys seem to,” you play with your fingers under her almost threatening gaze. You remember one glare like that…Ares had one.

Not that you ever met him really but there was a dream. You were in a place with thrones around you and people sat amongst them and screamed at each other. Not much did you catch or remember of what was said, almost like you were meant to. But the subject did revolve around you.

“Tell me, what are you?” That’s when things clicked in your mind. Someone had asked that before.

“That’s enough. Go back to your cabin—”

“I’m a heartrender.”

The pair stare at you before moving their wide eyes up. You feel your blood pump faster and a growing confidence and remember who you were. Slowly coming down from high you felt, you notice their gaze wasn’t on you anymore but just above you.

“What?” You asked before taking a glance above you and see something shining bright above you. Stepping back you found yourself confused…no god was your parent, you weren’t a half blood. So why was one claiming you…

Thunder could be heard and rumbled underneath your feet. This couldn’t be right.

“That’s impossible..”

A peacock feather hung above your head in all its glory.

Taglist @maria699669 @gorgeourrific-nerd @alliriseabove @targaryenluvs @theaaeht @dabalyuteeeftia @weepingwitchofthewest @iris1587 @tulipmagnoliaisme @ameliashideout @purplerose291 @poppyflower-22 @riaaavm

[joeyb1989]

accidentally* - joe burrow

word count: 6.2k

pairing: joe burrow x reader

warnings: smut, fwb, small angst, love triangle, fluff, cussing

a/n: okay i decided to split this up into parts because im not sure if i want this to be a series yet or not LMAO. i’m not sure how many parts there would be, but right now there’s at least one more part planned. the next part should be out within the next week or so. also if some of this looks familiar, remember i posted a sneak peek a few days ago. i hope you all enjoy 💕

edit: after starting to write the third part of this series, i decided to change the timeline a bit. the series now starts before OTA’s (which are taking place during April for the sake of the story) instead of training camp.

——

April 2024

“Well if it isn’t my favorite media manager,” Joe smiled at you, waving over the bartender.

You smiled at the much taller quarterback, who was now sitting next to you.

OTA’s were starting the following week and Coach Taylor wanted the team and staff to have fun before the season began.

“Well if it isn't my favorite quarterback,” you teased.

You’d been working for the Bengals for as long as Joe has played for them. On your first day, you had a little incident – which introduced you to the dirty blonde.

Flashback to your first day

It was your first day working for the Bengals media team. You were so anxious about your first day. You were fresh out of college and felt intense pressure on you to succeed. You had only been in the facility for 30 minutes and you were already wishing the day was over. Not that you hated your job already, you were just so nervous.

You had been in a meeting with the rest of the media team – which you had just learned is a frequent thing – when you had to rush across the facility to get all the equipment that would be needed for the practice that day. As you rounded a corner, you were hurrying and not paying attention until you felt your body collide with somebody else’s. You look to see that you spilled your iced coffee on a very tall, and very fit man’s white t-shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry,” you apologized, picking up the plastic cup and ice cubes off the floor.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, helping you pick up the rest of the ice.

“I wasn't looking where I was going,” you both said in unison.

You both laughed before he extended his hand to you, “I’m Joe.”

“I’m Y/n,” you smiled, shaking his hand.

You had heard a couple of your co-workers gossiping about the rookie quarterback named Joe. They said that he was handsome but you never imagined him to be this handsome.

“You look awfully pretty to be a football player,” Joe said with a smirk

Your cheeks heated up at his compliment, “I’m the new media team intern.”

“Ah, that makes more sense,” he laughed, “make sure to get my good side out there.”

“I’ll try my best,” you giggled

“I’ll see you around, Y/n.”

“I’ll see you around, Joe,” you said, making your way to get the camera equipment.

End of flashback

After your and Joe’s little mishap on your first day, it sparked something between you two. Both of you had just gotten out of long-term relationships just before you met, so by ‘spark,’ you meant friends with benefits; even though both of you always felt something more.

“Will you put her drinks on my tab?” Joe asked the bartender.

“You don’t have to do that,” you smiled

“But I want to,” Joe smiled back.

After talking for about 20 minutes about anything and everything while drinking many rounds, you both were hammered.

All of a sudden, Joe loudly gasped, “We should play darts!”

“Okay,” you chirped, “Let’s do it!”

Joe led you over to the dart board, where he was destroying you.

“Joeeee, I never was very good at darts,” you whined

Joe smiled before walking behind you, “Let me help.”

His large left hand was on your hip, your back was against his chest, and you could feel his cock on your ass. His right hand guided yours, which contained a dart, to the board, getting you 20 points. Your breath hitched when he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “Has anyone told you that you look absolutely sexy in this dress.”

Even though you and Joe have hooked up a bunch of times, you swore you could have seen a twinkle in his eyes.

“Mmm, no,” you say, “just you.”

“I don't believe you,” Joe chuckled. “You’re the most gorgeous woman in this place,” he whispered. His words were so sweet that you literally thought you died and this was heaven. Your stomach filled with butterflies at his words. You turned around in his grasp, his arms going around your waist as your hands landed on his chest.

“I think you’re the most handsome man here,” you smiled

You leaned forward and captured his lips in a sweet kiss before it heated up. His hand fell from your waist to your ass as you sucked on his bottom lip. You two pulled away for air when he bent down to whisper in your ear again, “Let’s get out of here.”

20 minutes later

“Oh my g- god, Joe!” you moaned as your orgasm washed over you. After leaving the bar in an Uber, Joe spent some time worshiping your body and eating you out like you were his last meal once you arrived at his place

He continued lapping your juices up as you came down from your climax. Once your breathing returned to normal, he leaned over the top of you, pressing feather-like kisses to your jaw.

“Are you okay?” he asked

“Mhm,” you smile, “but I need you inside of me.” 

His eyes grew darker and filled with lust at your words. At the speed of light, he pulled his jeans and boxers down. 

Now that he was free, you look at his thick and pulsing cock. Precum was dripping out of his tip as he lined himself up with your core. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, his dick is always mesmerizing to you

He teased your slick folds with his tip, chuckling when you became a whimpering mess under him. 

“Please Joe,” you whined

“Please what, baby?” Joe asked with a smirk

“Please, fuck me,” you moaned

That was all Joe needed to hear before he sank his cock into you. You both moaned at the sensation of being balls-deep inside of you. “Let me know when it’s okay for me to move,” Joe said as he peppered kisses on your forehead. Joe was always sweet with you while fooling around with you. You always wondered what he was like with girlfriends if he was this sweet with his fuck-buddy.

After a couple of minutes, you gave him the okay to move. His thrusts started slow and gentle, afraid he might hurt you. He soon quickened up the pace, his tip ramming into your cervix with each thrust.

“You are so. fucking. tight.,” he groaned, punctuating each word with a rough thrust. 

“Joe- oh my- don’t stop!” you moaned, your hands moving to send scratches down his toned back.

“Y/n,” Joe moaned into your neck, “You feel so good, baby.”

You pull on Joe’s curls, guiding his head so that your lips meet for a sloppy kiss.

After one particularly rough thrust, his cock grazing your g-spot, you felt that unmistakable feeling in your belly building up, begging to be released.

“Joe… I’m gonna cum-” you moaned into his mouth

“Fuck, me too,” Joe moved his hand down to where you two connected, rubbing soft circles on your clit.

You were practically screaming when you came for a second time. After a few more rough thrusts, Joe shot his hot load into you, before collapsing onto your chest.

Once you both came down from your highs, Joe pulled out of you and got up. He headed for the bathroom, coming back into the bedroom a couple of minutes later with a wet washcloth. He cleaned you up before crawling back into bed. He pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead delicately.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Joe yawned

“Goodnight, Joey,” you smiled.

The next morning

The bright sunlight seeped into the room from Joe’s window. For a minute, you were confused about where you were until you remembered the events of last night. Feeling weight on your chest, you look down to see Joe with his head on your chest, his curls falling over his forehead. His arms were wrapped loosely around your waist. You brought your hand up to his curls, lightly brushing them out of his closed eyes until he began to stir in his sleep.

He slowly opened his eyes, meeting your gaze as a small smile made its way onto his face.

“Good morning,” he smiled, rolling off of you after pressing a kiss to your cheek and walking into his closet. He comes back a moment later with an old t-shirt of his and a pair of sweats. “I figured you would want to change into something more comfortable,” he smiled.

“Thank you,” you smile at his effort to keep you as comfortable as possible. As amazing as sex was with Joe, the aftercare was even better.

“I’m going to go start breakfast,” he smiles, stepping into fresh boxers and sweatpants.

“You don’t have to do that for me-” you say

“But I want to,” Joe interrupts you, echoing his words from last night

“Okay, I’ll be down there in a minute,” you sigh, playfully rolling your eyes. He nods and sends you a sweet smile before walking out of the room.

You sigh again, thinking about the conversation you had with Joe last night. Not once has Joe ever complimented you like that. People say that drunk words are sober thoughts, so were his words last night how he really feels? Or was it all of that tequila he drank? 

“Ooooh, something smells nice down here,” you smile at the smell of the delicious breakfast Joe is making, “What is it?”

“Breakfast burritos,” he smiles, “There’s scrambled eggs, roasted potatoes, shredded cheese, avocado, turkey bacon, and salsa.”

“Yum,” you say, “That makes my mouth water just thinking about it,”

“I also know you like to have coffee every morning, so I made you some,” he smiles while handing you a mug, but it turns into a grimace, “I hope I didn't make it too sweet for you.”

You take a long sip of the hot drink, smiling because it tastes just the way you like it, “It’s perfect, Joe, thank you.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, furrowing your brows. “How do you know how I like my coffee?”

“I could say that I could tell when a certain someone spilled it on me, but you make it every time you’re over here.”

“Oh my god,” you cover your face with your hands, “that was the worst day of my life.”

“Wow the day you met me was the worst day of your life? Thanks, Y/n,” Joe joked

You playfully roll your eyes at him, “I didn't think you paid that much attention.” 

“Go sit down, I’ll bring the burritos over in a sec,” Joe smiled before you did his bidding

You two exchanged some small talk over the heavenly burritos Joe prepared.

“How’s rehab coming along?”

Joe sighed before speaking, “Pretty good, I’m excited to get back out there.”

‘Yeah, well, in my opinion, you’re looking great out there,” you smile

“Thanks, but who knows how the season will go,” Joe sighs

“Joe..” you began but stopped when Joe gave you a don’t-go-there look. Joe always hated opening up to you about his struggles, so you let it go.

His house fell quiet again, your eyes going wide when you made a realization. “Joe,” you say, “Did we use a condom?”

Joe furrows his brows, thinking for a moment before his eyes go wide. “No.. uh we- we did not…”

There were a few quiet moments of panicking between the two of you before you spoke up again. “Hey, it’s okay… I’m on birth control,” you tried to soothe, even though your anxiety was out the roof.

“That’s not 100% accurate though, right,” Joe questioned

“Neither are condoms,” you state, matter-of-a-factly

Joe nods his head, running a hand through his hair. A few minutes of silence go by again before he speaks up, “Alright, so we should be good?”

“Yeah,” you smile

“Alright,” Joe nods, “We’re good.”

Eight weeks later

Spoiler alert: things were not good.

A couple of weeks after your and Joe’s drunken hookup, he very kindly explained to you that he started seeing someone and wanted to see where it went. You understood completely. Joe wasn't yours and you weren't his, so why wouldn't you understand?

As you were reviewing the new intern’s work, you felt your phone buzz from beside you. You pick it up and see a text from your mom.

Hey sweetie, are you feeling better?

She was referring to the fact that you have been dealing with on-and-off nausea and fatigue for the past couple of weeks. She has been bugging you to go to the doctor about it, but with being too busy with work lately, you haven't gotten the chance. 

Yep, a bit. I should be alright to come to the cookout tonight though :)

Is your period late?

What?

Check your app.

You closed out the messages app and navigated to find your period app. Your heart drops when you see that your period is, in fact, late. Even worse, you scroll to see that the day you had sex with Joe was when you were ovulating.

Fuck.

Mom, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it to the cookout tonight.

A few hours later

After clocking out of work, you drove straight to the nearest drugstore to pick up a couple of pregnancy tests before driving home.

Now here you were, sitting on your bed with your leg bouncing up and down, a pregnancy test upside down on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone counting down the seconds until your life could change forever.

You couldn't be pregnant. No way. You had always been so safe when it came to sex. In fact, this was the only time you and Joe had not worn a condom. ‘I’m never drinking alcohol again after this,’ you think to yourself.

You were pulled out of your trance by your timer going off. You flipped your phone over to turn it off, slowly standing up and walking into the bathroom. Your hands start shaking as you pick up the plastic test, your eyes immediately darting to the word ‘Pregnant,” indicating that you will be having a baby in just nine months.

Your mind immediately goes to Joe as you choke out sobs. He is already under so, so much pressure and you would hate to add to it. He was doing so well too. He was bouncing back quite well, and he seemed so happy. You didn’t want to ruin it all for him, but he has to know that he has a baby on the way.

The next day

After thinking about it the rest of the day, you decided the best thing to do was not bombard him at the facility. So, here you were standing on his porch, the positive pregnancy test in your purse, about to change the man’s life forever.

After knocking on the door, you thought about darting off the porch and speeding away in your car but didn't have time to even think about it until the door swung open.

“May I help you?” A short, blonde woman asked, your brows furrowed at her until it hit you.

Haley.

Flashback to your first time at Joe’s house

You were standing in Joe’s living room, him getting you a glass of water in the kitchen. You notice all his pictures on his TV stand, looking closer to see a short, blonde woman kissing his cheek at an LSU game.

“That’s Haley,” he gave a closed-lip smile.

The first night you and Joe hooked up, you two blabbed to each other about past relationships; Joe a little more than you.

“I’m still sorry for what she did,” you say

“You didn't do anything,” he says

You look back at the seemingly sweet girl in the picture frame. Even though you and Joe barely knew each other, he was still one of the sweetest guys you’ve met. You couldn't imagine how someone could treat him the way she did.

Not only did she cheat on him, but she cheated on him during Heisman weekend, in Haley and Joe’s hotel room. Even though Joe found out, he stayed with her until right before his first training camp. 

“You don't deserve that, though,” you rub his shoulder.

“I meant to throw her pictures out, I’m sorry you saw them,” he said

“No I get it Joe, take your time,” you smiled

End of flashback

“Hey, uh… is Joe home,” you questioned

“What do you need him for?” she asked.

“We work together and there’s an urgent work thing that I need to ask him about,” you lie

“Well, he’s not home. I’m his girlfriend, I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she fake-smiled

“Okay, thank you,” internally rolling your eyes at her.

So much for telling him today.

The next day

“Come in,” you say after you hear a knock on your office door

“Hey, I heard you wanted to see me,” Joe smiled

“Hey, yeah… sit down,” you said, trying to prepare yourself for the conversation you’re about to have.

“What’s up,” he questions

“Joe… I don’t know any way to sugarcoat thi-” you say

“Then don’t,” Joe interrupted, “Just tell me.”

You look at him for a few moments, trying to find the courage to say those two words.

“I’m pregnant,” you whisper, avoiding making eye contact with him

His jaw drops open, “You.. yo- your- and I- I’m…?”

“You’re the father by the way, which maybe you picked up but I can’t understand your stuttering,” you nervously laugh

The room falls silent again for a few moments, both of you still in shock

“Are you… keeping it,” Joe questions

“Yeah, and don’t feel any pressure at all. You can be as involved as you want,” you soothe

Joe just sat there, staring off into space, trying to wrap his mind around everything.

“Y/n.. I just need a bit to think things over, I’m sorry…” Joe says, getting up and walking out of your office.

Later that night

You were reading a magazine about everything expecting mothers should be doing when you heard a knock on your door. You open the door and are surprised at what you see.

“What are you doing here,” you ask

“Can I come in,” Joe questions

“Of course,” you step aside to let him in your house.

“I’m here to talk about the baby,” he blurts

“Okay, go ahead,” you gave a small smile

“I’m so sorry for how I acted earlier. It just all came as a shock and I didn’t know how to handle it. I mean you know me, I’m not ready to be a dad. Even if this definitely wasn't planned, I’m not walking out on you or our baby,” Joe rants

You smile before walking over to him, engulfing him in a hug, “Thank you, Joe. But you are going to be a great dad.”

“I’m sure you saw Haley when you came over yesterday,” Joe said

“Yeahhhh,” you drag out. You’ve made your feelings about her very obvious to Joe before.

“I told her about it and she isn't exactly… thrilled,” Joe grimaced, “but she wants to stay with me, so.”

“Okay…?” you furrow your brows

“I just wanted to tell you so you would know,” Joe sheepishly smiled

“Thank you,” you smiled, “I have my first appointment in a few days, you are welcome to come if you would like.”

“Consider me there,” Joe says, pressing a kiss to your forehead

A few days later

“Hey, Joe,” you smile

“Hey Y/n,” Joe opens your car door for you

“Are you excited to see our little one,” Joe smiles, jogging to the driver’s side of the car

“I am, I didn't know you would be,” you say

“How come,” Joe asked, pulling out of your driveway

“I don't know, I just feel like I’m forcing you to take me,” you mumble

“Y/n, I would do anything for y- the baby,” Joe paused, “I’d do anything for the baby, so you aren’t forcing me,” Joe squeezed your hand reassuringly.

Ever since you told Joe about the baby, his whole attitude towards you has changed. He’s seemed happier to see you, he’s texted you every day, checking up on his little guy or girl growing inside of you. He even offered to take you to the appointment. Not that Joe wasn't nice to you before, it was just different.

——

Pulling into the doctor’s office parking lot, Joe turned the car off, letting out a sigh. You noticed him playing with his wristbands, something he often did if something was bothering him.

“Joe, what’s wrong,” you question as you meet his gaze.

“I’m fine,” he said, even though his eyes told you otherwise. You didn't have time to respond to him as he got out of the car and jogged over to your side, opening the door.

“You know I’m pregnant, not incapable of opening a door, right,” you tease

“Please, you know I’ve opened doors for you before I got you pregnant,” he smiled

“I guess you’re right,” you playfully roll your eyes.

After checking in and waiting in the waiting room, you see Joe fidgeting with his wristbands and bouncing his leg up and down out of the corner of your eye.

“Joe,” you say, placing your hand on his thigh, “seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles but sighs when you raise an eyebrow at him. “Just nerves.”

“You can talk to me about it if you want,” you soothe, rubbing his shoulder

He looks into your eyes a moment, before running a hand through his hair. “I’m scared that I’m not going to be a good father, Y/n.”

His words shocked you. In all the time that you’ve known Joe, he’s never been one to open up with you on that level

“I mean, I’m in such a good place with the wrist, and I’m so excited for the season, but what if I’m not around enough for it,” Joe confessed

“Joe, I should be due in March. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be done with football in February. You’re going to be an excellent father too, you are caring and compassionate. You do everything you do with 120% effort, I expect nothing less than your role as a father too,” you smile

“Thank you Y/n,” Joe smiles, grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Y/n,” a nurse calls

“That’s us,” you smile, signaling for Joe to stand up.

——

“Okay, this gel might be a little cold,” the ultrasound tech warns

After talking with your doctor, you and Joe were now in the tech room, about to see your baby for the first time. 

“There it is,” the tech smiles, directing the screen towards you two. Both you and Joe choked up at seeing the baby. There was nothing like seeing the baby and hearing its heartbeat that you both made. The baby on a screen in a cold lab room will soon be a little Y/n or a little Joe running around.

After finishing up the ultrasound, the tech printed out the ultrasound and gave you the pictures. “I’ll give you two a minute,” she smiles, walking out of the room

“I can’t believe we made that,” you say looking at the pictures of your little baby.

“I know,” Joe choked out, tears running down his face.

You turn your head to look at him, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears off his face. Your eyes drop down to his pink lips, wanting nothing more to press yours to them; but you can’t. Instead, you just bring him in for a tight hug, while he presses a kiss to your forehead.

20 minutes later

“So wait,” you say, popping a french fry into your mouth, “You think that aliens are already here?”

“Absolutely, I mean… I’m sure that if they are smart enough to visit us, then they are smart enough to cloak themselves from us so we can’t see them,” Joe replies, sipping his milkshake

“Mmmm, okay,” you giggle

After your appointment, you and Joe saw a 60’s themed diner down the street that neither of you had tried. Somehow the conversation drifted from the baby to aliens.

“You’re not gonna see aliens on an iPhone, Y/n,” Joe scoffs playfully

“I guess you’re right,” you smile

“You know I am,” Joe teases

“We need to go back to talking about the baby, Joe,” you laugh, “I don’t even know how we got started on the aliens.”

Joe nodded, “Okay, okay… so we made the agreement that you would move in with me once the lease on your apartment is up, right?”

“Yes, and I should be five-ish months by then,” you nod

“I have the space for your room and a baby nursery,” Joe said, “in case you were worried about that.”

“I know Joe, the only thing I’m worried about is Haley,” you said

“Rightttt,” Joe grimaced

Flashback to when Joe told Haley

“What do you mean pregnant,” Haley screamed, “Joe, I don't even know why you would associate yourself with that slut!”

Joe was headed to your apartment to talk to you after he stormed out of your office earlier that day, but wanted to tell Haley first.

“Haley, don’t talk about her like that. I was the one that didn't use protection,” Joe tries to calm her down

Haley scoffed, “What the fuck do you mean, Joe. She is literally trying to baby-trap you!”

Joe rolled his eyes, “Haley, I know this is hard for you to-”

“No, you don’t, Joe! I mean how could you do this to me,” Haley said

“Haley, I understand that this complicates a lot, but I want to stay with you. I’m heading over there to talk to her,” Joe stated

“Like hell you are,” Haley said, trying to grab his car keys out of his hand, “As your girlfriend, I don't think you should see her anymore.”

“I can do what I damn well please,” Joe raised his voice, slamming the front door behind him.

End of flashback

“How is she coming along,” you ask, taking a bite of your cheeseburger.

‘She thinks I’m at practice right now but instead, I’m with you because she doesn't want me seeing you,’ Joe thought

“She’s not too happy, but she will come around,” Joe smiles

“Good, good,” you smile, “We also agreed that we will see each other two times a week outside of work so that we can get closer and you can build a relationship with the baby, right?”

“Yeah,” Joe smiles, “I’m glad that I’m having a baby with you, Y/n. Anyone else wouldn't put in this effort to make it work.”

“Of course, anything for you the baby,” you smile

Joe ponders for a minute before speaking up, “How about we have dinner with Haley soon? I know you two haven't officially met. Maybe it will help her get more comfortable with the situation.”

‘It’s a good thing Joe loves her,’ you think to yourself

“I think that’s a great idea, Joe,” you smile, not because you’re happy to see her, but because you know it will make him happy.

A few weeks later

“Gold or silver jewelry,” you ask your sister, Abby, who came over to help ease your nerves.

“Silver,” she replied, standing next to the doorway, “You gonna be okay?”

You take a deep breath before replying, “Yeah, I’ll be alright. Just nervous.”

Tonight was the scheduled dinner between you, Haley, and Joe. Your nerves have skyrocketed over the past couple of days. Tonight was a big deal for the future of your and Joe’s co-parenting plan, as well as the baby. Haley was, rightfully, upset when she found out about the baby, but from what you heard about her, you know that she was more upset than Joe let on.

The current plan was for you to move in with Haley and Joe in two months. She was already living with him because Joe found some way to love the monster of a woman Haley is, despite everything she has done to him.

“That dress really shows off the bump,” your sister smiles at your growing three-month bump. Even though it was barely there, you loved nothing more than seeing it poke out in certain clothes.

“Are you staying here while I’m gone,” you ask while stuffing your phone, lip balm, wallet, and keys into your purse.

“No, I’m gonna head out when you leave,” Abby answers, “I need to head home and finish packing for my trip this weekend.”

“You can stay here and watch reruns of Keeping Up with The Kardashians if you want,” you say, knowing your sister would want to postpone packing for as long as possible

“I’ll think about itttt,” your sister replies, both of you knowing she is definitely staying.

“Okay, well I got to go grab dinner with my ex-situationship – aka my baby daddy – and his toxic girlfriend that probably wants to claw my eyes out,” you laugh

“Y/n, it’s going to be okay. We all know that you and Joe are going to be together before that baby comes out of you anyway,” Abby soothes

You stop dead in your tracks, “Abby… what?”

“Y/n… literally the way you just talk about Joe shows me how you feel about him. I mean you two have so much in common, you work together, and I mean you’re having a baby together. I know he feels the same way you do. He opens up to you, he literally treats you like his girlfriend, and the effort he’s putting in for the baby. He can say it’s for the baby, and it probably is, but it is also for you. Sure he has a girlfriend, but it’s only a matter of time before he realizes that he deserves the love you can give him,” your sister says.

Was Abby right, do you have feelings for Joe? Ever since you two met, Joe has always been a great friend and a sweet lover. As time went on and the more you two hooked up, it’s like he disappeared. He was still kind and gentle, but it was like he shut off. He would barely talk or open up to you, but that all stopped when you told him about the baby. He kept his promise to you about coming over twice a week; in fact, he was coming over more than twice a week. Even though this situation wasn’t ideal, it felt like you two were heading in the right direction. Even if you did have feelings for him, there was no way he felt the same for you.

Flashback to last week

“Ja’marr is Daddy’s best friend, but you can’t forget the others either. Justin, Sam, and Nick. You’ll get to see us all play football together, pumpkin,” Joe talked softly to your small bump. This was the fifth day he was over in a row.

Ever since you two went to the ultrasound together, Joe started to call the baby, ‘pumpkin.’ He said that the baby needed a nickname since you two still don’t know the gender.

“Mommy and Daddy are so excited to meet you. I can’t wait to-” Joe said, getting interrupted by the alarm on his phone. Joe sighed as he turned the alarm off, obviously disappointed. Joe sat up straight and looked at you, “Gotta go to practice.”

“Then go, we’ll be okay,” you smile, “You can come over after if you want.”

“I’ll have to see if Haley will let me,” Joe sighs, rubbing a hand over his face

“What do you mean let you,” you furrow your brows

“She doesn't like how much time we’ve been spending together, but she doesn't control me. I’m going to see my baby, and you, Y/n. She’s just going to have to accept that,” Joe said

A small smile pulled at your lips as you nodded, “Well, we’ll be happy to have you over any time. You need to get going though, Cincinnati needs their quarterback.”

Joe’s smile faltered at the mention of practice, making you raise an eyebrow. “Joe, it’ll be okay. Our pumpkin won’t be here for another 29 weeks. You have time to make it up to it.”

“It’s not that, Y/n. I’m just… nervous for practice, I guess,” Joe sheepishly smiled, “I know what people are saying about me and the injury. I just… I feel like I got this far for nothing. What if the people are right?”

You gave him a small smile, holding his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “It’s okay to be nervous, Joe. I mean, you did have a season-ending injury last season, but you need to remember that you are Joe fucking Burrow. You can do anything, and I mean anything, you put your mind to. You rehabbed the wrist like an actual beast and it’s time to show the world what you can do.”

Joe pulled you into a tight hug, being careful of your bump. “Thank you,” he whispered against your ear.

“Go get em, Shiesty,” you giggle

End of flashback

“Abby, you’re delusional as hell. Enjoy your trashy TV show, love ya!” you say as you walk out of your apartment.

You wanted nothing more than for Joe to be yours, but that was so far out of reach that you shouldn't even dwell on it.

——

“Hey, Y/n,” Joe smiles as you meet the couple in the parking lot of Jeff Ruby’s.

“Hey, Joe,” you hug him as you can feel someone’s eyes shooting daggers at you.

“This is uh… Haley,” he said motioning towards the blonde woman.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, officially,” you smile, extending your hand out towards her

“Yeah, so nice,” she fake smiles, grabbing your hand and yanking you forward, nearly pulling you to the ground

“How about we go eat,” Joe says, trying to break the tension.

——

About 45 minutes later, Joe was laughing at something you said, while trying to not choke on his water.

You thought the evening was going nice, the three of you were exchanging small talk; well more like you and Joe were having a great conversation and Haley was just… there.

“Do you remember the one time we walked in on Ja’marr and one of his women of the month,” Joe laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. How could I forget? I’m like permanently traumatized,” you join Joe in laughing

All the laughing and giggling came to a halt when two hands smashed on the table, you two looked over to see Haley, smoke practically coming out of her ears.

“Joe, what the fuck are you doing,” she asked, obviously annoyed

“What do you mean,” Joe questioned

“Joe you dragged me here so that I would feel more comfortable with this hag moving in, but it is making me feel worse. All you two have done is talk and talk and talk to each other about something only you two would understand. I am your girlfriend Joe. I am the one you go home to. I am the one who is there for you. I get that it’s all exciting right now, she’s still relatively thin and beautiful, but wait until she blows up like a balloon and you want nothing to do with her, she rants before looking at you, “Y/n, I hope you know that once that baby gets here, he will want nothing to do with the baby. You’ll be all by yourself in our house. Which, that is if he doesn't kick you out.” She smiled evilly

The table fell quiet, neither of you wanting to make eye contact with one another. Even though her words were just simply out of rage, it didn't mean that they didn't hurt. You were so scared that Joe would stop caring about you and your baby. Apparently, by her rant, she feels the same way. Your eyes started to get misty from her raised voice, your hormones, and your fears.

“I’m… uh gonna go home,” you muttered out

“Y/n, don’t go,” Joe pleaded

“No, you two have your thing. It was stupid of me to come between you two,” you walk out of the restaurant, tears streaming down your face

Joe tried to take your hand, but you pushed it away. He turned back around to see Haley sitting there with a satisfied look on her face.

30 minutes later

When you got back home, tears were streaming down your face. You walk into an empty apartment, which means Abby must’ve left at some point. You put down your purse and take off your sandals, about to head upstairs to change when you hear a knock on the door.

You walk to the door, slowly opening it, shocked when you see Joe. You wipe the remaining tears off of your face before speaking up. “What are you doing-”

Joe cuts you off by putting both hands on either side of your face, backing you up a bit as he smashes his lips onto yours.

~ to be continued ~

part two is here!!

[woso-fan13]

Whumptober 2023: 17 (ENGWNT)

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

When you first joined the Lionesses, they thought you were just overwhelmingly shy. They noticed the way that you scooted away everytime someone sat near you, the way you would only take something from someone if there was no way your fingers could touch. They chalked it all up to you just being nervous- you were at your first senior camp with players who were a fair bit older than you. It would have been more surprising if you weren’t nervous. 

But, as the days went by, they watched you settle in. Your personality and energy shone through, constantly making the girls laugh. Your aversion to touch, though, stayed. 

The girls took it as a personal task to get you to not only tolerate, but enjoy, touch. They weren’t going to cross any boundaries, make you do things that made you uncomfortable, but they wanted to be able to show you their love. It was such a touchy team, it just made sense. 

—-

The first time they attacked, you were almost asleep. It was strategic, your defenses were down. You were laying on part of a bed, the rest of the team spread out throughout the room. Georgia was sitting next to you and noticed that your eyes were drooping shut as the night progressed. After the full day of training, you were exhausted. 

As you fight sleep, Georgia sets her hand down gently on your back. She doesn’t go any further than that, not wanting to risk anything, but she lays her palm flat. The room goes silent as they watch, waiting for your reaction. 

You relax under her touch, sleep taking over. 

—-

Alessia chances it next, noticing that you’re struggling before the first game. She can tell in the way that you hold yourself, the way that you move, that you’re a bundle of nerves for your debut. After watching your hands shake as you reach for a brush, she decides to intervene. 

“Y/N,” she calls, “c’mere for a second.”

You do as requested, moving to stand in front of where she sat on the bench. You look at her. 

“Why don’t you take a seat and let me do your hair? Just tell me how you want it.”

It’s a casual offer, one that she would extend to any member of the team. There’s a deeper meaning behind it, though you’re too occupied to see it. 

Wordlessly, you pass your brush to Alessia. Taking your silence in tune, Alessia gets to work on your hair. 

—-

Leah follows. It was at the next camp, and you were warming up to the team even more. Today, as team bonding, everyone was going shopping. 

It had started fun, a whirlwind of activity as everyone voiced their input as to what stores to visit. After a few hours and a dozen stores, you were exhausted. The girls noticed. 

“C’mon, pea,” Leah calls back to where you’re falling slightly behind, “move those little legs.”

You whine, not wanting to have to keep up. Why on earth did all of them have legs twice the length of yours. 

Leah chuckled at your reaction, passing the few bags she held over to Beth. Walking back to you, she gently takes the bags in your hands and passes them off. Turning her back to you, she squats down. 

“Alright, hop on.”

You stand there, confused. She turns around, standing up. 

“If you want a ride, kiddo, you better hop on. The Leah train is leaving the station.”

You laugh at the pure stupidity of what she said, but, as she resumes her previous position, you surprise everyone. You surprise yourself, too. You hop onto Leah’s back, wrapping your arms around her neck. Her arms wrap around your legs, standing up. She lets out a ‘choo-choo’ in her best train impersonation, quickening her pace to catch up with everyone. She has to refrain from bragging when you rest your head on her shoulder, eyes heavy. 

—-

The next time begins with an accident, a rooming mixup. Somehow, you were put into a room with Lucy and Kiera. If you had paid more attention, you might have noticed how the two smirked when room assignments were read. You might have noticed how Leah has her own room. But you didn’t, instead focusing on the fact that you’re going to have to share a room with one of the scariest players on the team and her girlfriend. 

The first few nights were fine, but on the fourth night, you wake up panting. A nightmare had plagued your dreams. 

As you regain control of your breathing, you hear a voice. 

“Alright?”

It’s Lucy, you must have woken her up. You stay silent, hoping she’ll fall back asleep. 

She doesn’t.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, I just had a bad dream. It’s silly, really.”

“It’s not silly. Come over here, I want to see you.”

You stand up, moving to stand in the gap between the two beds. Lucy sighs, reaching out one hand to pull you to sit on the side of her bed. 

“You okay now?”

You nod, still slightly shaken. 

“Alright,” it’s quiet for a moment, “get in.”

You think you must have misheard her, looking away from the bedside table you had been focused on. As your eyes reach her, you notice the corner of the blanket she has pulled back. 

You open your mouth, going to protest. 

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” Lucy cuts you off. 

You shrug, unsure. 

“That’s what I thought, get in. Come get some more sleep.”

Not waiting for an answer, Lucy pulls you to lay next to her. You squirm in the bed, trying to get comfortable, but you can’t. 

Lucy tugs you over top of her, settling you in between her and the sleeping woman on the other half of the bed. It’s warm here, the blankets soft. The pillow’s comfortable, and it’s safe. Before you realize what’s happening, you’re falling asleep. 

Lucy triumphantly takes a picture. 

—-

The first time you initiate contact is a special moment in so many ways. You just scored your first goal for the national team and you’re shocked. After realizing that- yes, the ball went in- you ran to your teammate. You jump on them, forming the base of a group hug. Everyone’s latched around you, cheering and congratulating you. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Kalim, Vil: Pyrite, Prince, and Pauper

Wah 😭 I really love the initial art!! The water shimmering and making a rainbow… ✨ (Not used to seeing Kalim without his headscarf though, feels weird to see him bare!)

A Tale as Old as Time.

If Kalim had to pick one word to describe what he was looking at, it would be celebration.

It was both humble and extravagant at once—the city streets, the venue, livened up with flags, confetti, and fanfare. A large elephant fitted with a vest and hat towered over the gathered townsfolk. Seated upon him was a young man in a turban and glaringly white robes, an arm extended to the sky.

A grand party for the public, and all were invited. Children and adults, animals and humans, nobles and street rats.

Kalim broke out into a wide smile. “Wow, it looks like everyone’s having so much fun!”

“You never seem to tire from the idea,” Vil commented dryly.

The supermodel patiently tapped a manicured nail against his arm. “I suppose a host showing his best face to the public is far from undesirable. I’ve certainly been to my fair share of events where the host was less than that.”

“Gahahah! You’re famous, so it makes sense you’d be in high demand at parties. Jamil told me about that red carpet you walked a little while ago. I managed to catch some of it on TV!”

Kalim’s garnet eyes glinted with excitement.

“You were all sparkly and the crowd was so happy to see you! You’re like the prince in this painting, hyping everyone up.”

“My, thank you for your support.” Vil’s lip curled. “I’m sure you’re in high demand as well… albeit for different reasons than I. Many would love to have the attention of the Asim heir on them.”

The third year chuckled, a hand tucked under his chin. “It’s only natural for people to be attracted to that which shines.”

“Shines, huh…”

Kalim folded his arms, inclining his head to one side. His mouth pinched slightly, disrupting the arc of his smile.

“… Hey, Vil. Can I ask you something?”

“You need not request for my permission.” Vil waved a hand. “Continue.”

“Do you really think I shine? Like, on stage.” A pause, then he quickly added, “And you can be honest with me. Please… be honest with me.”

“What’s this now?” Vil planted his hands on his hips. “Certainly, you’re not ordinary by any means, but I’d hesitate to call you a refined gem. A one month boot camp isn’t enough to polish your singing and dancing skills to that of a pro—but you’re not talking about VDC, are you?”

“Ahahah… Looks like you caught me.” Kalim let his arms fall to his sides.

“You can’t fool this actor’s eyes,” Vil said simply. “So? What is it that you’re actually after? It’s not like you to talk in circles.”

“It’s nothing. I… A lot’s been on my mind since winter break. Too many things. When I think about it for too long, I start to wonder if I’m really what people say I am.”

You’re so talented, Kalim-sama.

So handsome.

So smart.

So kind.

The very best.

“Sometimes...” He tugged at his collar, watching how it sparkled and shifted as he maneuvered the fabric. “it feels like I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go. Or like my clothes don’t fit me right.”

The golden boy, the prince to make way for, the sun all looked to. They were the roles he wore, but suddenly they felt hollow.

Lies set adrift on an errant wind.

Dust of pyrite, fool’s gold.

Am I pretending to be something I’m not?

“… I’m not making a lot of sense, am I?” Kalim laughed softly, forcing a smile. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have made today feel sad.”

“On the contrary,” Vil tutted, “I understand all too well. All the makeup in the world, the nicest clothes, and the most skilled stylists cannot make a pauper become a prince. A pauper is a pauper, no matter how they present.

“However… a perfect little prince is not all that has value. I’ve played enough parts and been in enough productions to know. There are swash-buckling pirates, daring space heroes, dastardly villains, and, yes, even clever, honest street rats who find themselves in the public eye. Perhaps they did not start off as diamonds, but in the end they proved themselves to be diamonds in the rough.”

Vil lifted his chin—indignant.

“Regardless of how others perceive you or what ensemble you wear, you remain yourself. So long as you hold true to your own moral compass and principles, you shall always be someone who shi… Ough!!”

He could scarcely finish his sentence before he was tackled. Kalim was embracing him tightly, only pulling back when Vil muttered that he was creasing both of their suits.

“Thanks, Vil!! Talking with you made me feel so much better! You’re really not as bad as they say you are.”

Vil frowned. “I’m aware that I have my detractors, but you must learn to be more tactful with your choice of words.”

“Tactful, right! Got it! I can do that.”

Kalim released him and spun around, splaying his arms out. He pretended to present the painting with a flourish, looking back at Vil.

“Someday, maybe I’ll be as sparkly as he is here!”

So I can meet everyone’s expectations. Talented, handsome, smart, kind, better.

But no matter how I might change, I’m still me.

Still Kalim Al-Asim.

And that was something worth celebrating.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

I have been thinking a lot about blood bending lately and why the writers decided to go with the storyline of it being banned. I personally do not think it should have been. Like any bending form it can be used for awful things or it could be used for great things (my first thought is always in a medical sense but I’m sure there are other uses). And then I started to wonder if part of why they did that is bc that storyline was connected to Katara more than anyone else, and maybe this was a way to sideline her/focus more on Korra and the new gang instead of exploring with the older characters along with the new ones. But I was wondering if you had any thoughts on it!

hi anon! Sorry for getting to your ask a little late. I was at music camp (okay it’s a professional development program for musicians but I think of it as music camp in an effort to remind myself to have fun) and it was a big challenge since I’m chronically ill and needed a whole apothecary of meds to get through it. (I’m fine now! But needed to pace very carefully before & after and therefore stayed away from Tumblr)

It’s absolutely weird to me that bloodbending is singled out in a world where people can literally steal breath from one’s lungs, but it’s even weirder to me that they had a whole “ban bloodbending” storyline and sidelined Katara, because like…in what world would Katara feel strongly enough about bloodbending to ban it, yet do nothing to enforce the ban? The only explanation that makes sense is that she banned it because she was so ashamed, and stayed away from all the stuff around Yakone et al because she couldn’t bear to be reminded of what she’d done. And like all interpretations of canon Katara in LOK, that is just horribly heartbreaking.

I don’t begrudge the creators for wanting LOK to be about the new generation and I don’t mind seeing the Gaang play second fiddle. But I do object to the creators putting Katara in these situations where she could something in her wheelhouse, that’s in-character with her skills and ambitions, that is in line with her cultural impact as a role model for girls…and then sidelining her. Yakone is a big example, obviously, but so is Katara’s lack of involvement in the Civil War, the Red Lotus kidnapping, etc.

Like you said, bloodbending is useful in terms of the medical implications, but I also think it’s a humane tool in battle as long as it’s only used to incapacitate and not control. I can’t think of many better ways of incapacitating an enemy without causing serious damage (it’s even more efficient than chi-blocking!). If a bloodbender can stop encroaching enemies in their tracks with a flick of their wrist — well, that actually seems more humane than freezing them into ice cubes, which is the go-to waterbender move. I mean, Katara stops Hama with bloodbending in The Puppetmaster; she doesn’t actually control Hama with it. It’s terrible to override people’s bodily autonomy and make them do things they don’t want to do, but that is a very specific use of bloodbending.

I do think, though, that Katara is not the type of person to recognize all the other potential uses of bloodbending unless someone prompts her, and unfortunately that person is not going to be Aang. It doesn’t help that Katara’s first experience with bloodbending is being stripped of her own agency; similarly, it becomes her go-to weapon when she encounters (she thinks) the person who made her feel the most powerless in her life. To Katara, bloodbending is about taking power from someone else…and on her own, she’s not likely to see other applications. Katara is an excellent fighter with a lot of raw power, finesse, and creativity, but she’s not actually all that in-tune with her element, and I think that’s another reason she was never very interested in healing in canon (Katara and waterbending could be a whole other meta). Katara would’ve been an equally excellent bender no matter which element she wields, unlike Toph and Aang, who are uniquely suited to their elements. Katara borrows a lot from the more aggressive forms of bending (fire and earth): grabs people with water tentacles, hits them with ice disks, overwhelms them with big waves. For all that waterbending is about going with the flow and using the opponent’s strengths against them, Katara doesn’t exactly exemplify that philosophy (unlike Aang, btw, who is more intuitive as a waterbender than she is; that is why he picked it up more quickly at the beginning). She addresses all her problems head-on and is more likely to meet them with raw power than anything else. If I were to guess her astrological placements, she’d be an Aries Mars, minimum, if not an Aries Sun as well (she’d be a Cancer Moon though…I have Thoughts on ATLA astrology lmao).

Anyway, all this to say: I don’t think Katara would’ve thought of the healing implications of bloodbending on her own, when she’s already been traumatized by it, and that’s pretty tragic tbh. I like the Zutara interpretation of Zuko inspiring Katara to think there are other uses for bloodbending (as a wielder of a potentially destructive element), but I think Toph could’ve had a conversation with her about other uses for bloodbending as well, since Toph is really creative with earth. Actually, I think Zuko or Toph or Sokka could’ve all had a conversation with Katara about coming to terms about doing things that one is not proud of & moving past them, but I guess Katara can only follow the rigid moral code of her Do No Wrong boyfriend. Anyway, LOK’s despicable treatment of ATLA’s female characters is nothing new, but Katara’s is the most obvious and egregious because she’s actually there. We have no idea what happened to Suki or Azula or Mai or Ty Lee, and what we do see from Toph is not great either (in what world would she retire to be lonely in a swamp when having her friends meant the world to her…). All the boys got to have cool fulfilling lives and all the girls who aren’t lost to history are sad sacks, thanks Bryke! On a non-sarcastic note, thank you anon for such an interesting question!

[honey-milk-depresso]

Its my first time requesting something so sorry if this doesnt make sense;;

Can i ask for some Jade or Rook with a curious reader who tends to wander off or get distracted easily due to it?

I love ur writings and general energy!!! Thank you! 💝

How about both?? >:33

TWST A curious s/o who gets distracted and wanders off easily

Jade Leech

My oh my were you hard to look out for during the Vargas Camp.

Everything was practically something that made you curious to the point you skipped from one place to another.

“Jade, what type of mushroom is that?” “Ah, well s/o, that’s a Honey Fungus, which is actually pathogenic and- s/o?” Jade trailed off, noticing you were out of sight as he explained about the mushroom’s facts. The eel would find you standing in another area, looking up high at a tree in awe.

“Jade what species of trees is that?” That would continue on and on, even while doing the tasks assigned by Vargas which the eel will admit that you are indeed quite troublesome to look after…

…but that makes it all the more fun. Fufu~ you’re quite a tough one looking after, aren’t you? He loves that you love to discover things, and he loves that spark of curiosity you always give! It’s just that sometimes you just get too carried away and… wander off from his sight. That in itself is a little tiring but never ceases to amuse the Octavinelle vice dorm leader.

Would it be hard to imagine Jade wearing a harnest that has a rope tightly attached to a harness that you’re wearing so that you wouldn’t stray off from him? No? Good-

Jade wore that only during the camp (and maybe when he also invited you to his Mountain Climbing Club activities). Other times when you walk to class together, he holds your hand and walks you to class so that you wouldn’t get distracted along the way and stray off from the path to your classroom (which he was surprised and amused by the fact that you have before), or on a date would sit close to the aquarium to satisfy your curiosity, he would hold your hand to get your attention.

“So, may I ask how was your day…” once again, he catches you staring at the fishes swimming aimlessly in the tank. He gently squeezes your palm as you snapped out of your daze and looked at him. “H-huh? Oh, sorry about that,” you replied sheepishly.

Jade chuckles, shaking his head as he flashes you a soft, teasing smile. “Fufufu~ what shall I do with you?~” <3

Rook Hunt

Ah! You’re a curious mon cheri, how delightful! Rook finds this trait of yours attractive, unlike most people who finds it rather troublesome.

In fact, he humours that curiosity of yours and follows you around. Rook has basically become your tour guide around NRC and the wild, he knows a lot so it isn’t surprising he has most of the answers to your question.

However, there’s a teensy tiny issue that he finds this habit of getting easily distracted a bit of a hassle: you’ll be oblivious to the dangers and hazards around you.

One time during the Vargas Camp you were distracted (once again) and wandered to a forested area with Rook trailing behind.

Before you knew it, you almost got hit by a tree if not for Rook swiftly pulling you back by the shoulders, pulling you so that your back touched his chest. “Mon cheri, be careful! You almost hit your face into a tree!” That was when Rook knew you would need a little bit more supervision.

Rook made sure to always be by your side (sometimes in peculiar ways-), making sure you’re guided in your path of walking while being your tour guide and making sure you don’t wander off far away from campus.

The vice dorm of Pomefiore makes sure to hold your hand, pulling you away or snapping you back to reality when he feels is too dangerous to wander into.

Even so, Rook loves that you’re always curious. Just make sure to be careful even if he keeps close tabs on you.

“Mon cheri, please be careful while exploring! If not, I will explore with you!” <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[accio-victuuri]

IF & DOVE LIVESTREAM CLUES. 🧩

we’ve been missing our bunny laoshi for quite some time now and to have back to back livestreams from him was such a treat! and well, that new haircut! anyway, here are some sus moments from those events. this post is mostly for me who missed it and want to catch up/ archive these sweets.

for the IF livestream. i think the most glaring one is when xz said “活过来了”/ “i’m revived” related to drinking. and how it’s what wyb exactly said in exploring the unknown when he was able to finally get that first sip of coffee in the morning. well, you can say that it’s a common expression someone will use but why is it always them? and how close it was that we caught it? also the way it was natural and effortless. it’s times like this that we see their connection.

they don’t show up in front of the camera and events together but little bits like this, them adapting the other’s habits tell us what is true. i also saw one person say days ago that these two now tend to insert some english words in their sentences and i was like — oh yes. that’s true. i kinda noticed that too! even the dialect sometimes and other examples. so this incidence is just one of those. that happens when you spend a lot of time or talk to someone so often.

his clothes from acne studios, which a fave between them. yeah. they are not the only two people in this world who wear this brand but you all know we love some wardrobe similarity.

and this one he was saying how he sweats easily and that he is afraid of the summer because of it. which is not a new information cause we have seen this happen. and why he always has a fan with him. but i’m cackling how OP was relating it to that one LRLG rumor where WYB said that when XZ says it’s hot, he gets two strands of white hair. meaning that stresses him out. HAHAHAHAHA! He is too sweet. He can’t stand seeing/knowing that XZ is not comfortable.

Now let’s move on to the DOVE chocolates livestream which was so fun 🍫

the first one being ( again ) another example of a similarity. how they both like crispy things, and this is what zz commented when asked. which makes sense cause he likes potato chips among other things. as for wyb, he mentioned this when he was eating that food in ETU.

another way to interpret what wyb said was that he was only appreciating the crispiness of it and not exactly saying he prefers it. he said it himself that he is not picky with food. however i agree that this is more than enough to set off our cpn alarm bells. ugh. they are so obvious sometimes.

there was also a moment where he had to make a sentence based on a word that was given to him and what he came up with was:

we can go camping on the grassland and enjoy a relaxing time together with friend

dude i know we are all sick and tired of the camping cpn but they are not. lol. they love it so much and it gives us more sweet fuel so we have to endure 😂 and not only that — together with a friend? is this the friend from the crew? 🤣🤣🤣🤣

he used a cherry for his cupcake too! he really loves it and only put one. reminds me of that cherry cpn.

there was a challenge too where he had to blow the can to move and also push it somehow. he was so persistent! it may seem simple but that’s one characteristic they have in common. they are competitive in their own way ( okay wyb is more ) and won’t give up on challenges! fans noticed too how xz looks so young with his haircut, and how his whole aura is still so innocent and playful. that’s one thing i love about them actually. they maintain or choose that kind of wonder in the world even if it hasn’t always been kind to them.

-END.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Sneaky Cheeky

Hi guys :)

Another Luna fic, I hope you will like it :) It's from requests here and here. For this story, let say England qualified for the Olympics instead of the Netherlands, sorry Viv I love you.

Enjoy ♥

TW : Suggestive but not explicit content

______________________________________________________________

"Lucy is moodyyyyy, she miss her Oh-niiii" Ella Toone sings, catching Lucy’s glare.

"Fuck of Tooney" Lucy mumble, arms crossed on her chest. "At least say her name correctly for fuck's sake"

Sitting in one of the beanbags provided in the TV room, her leg is crossed on the other and her foot shakes nervously. Next to Ella, Alessia puts a hand on her best friend’s arm to prevent her from adding a layer. Lucy seems to be on edge and the blonde thinks wisely that it’s useless to add fuel in the fire.

"What’s the matter, mate?" inquired Leah once Ella decided to go after Mary. "This is not the first time you have been separated because of national camps"

"You’ll make fun of me" Lucy replies, taking a quick look at Leah.

"Of course not duh"

Lucy looks carefully at Leah for a few seconds, judging her captain’s sincerity before giving her an answer.

"Come on. I miss my girlfriend too, I can understand"

"I’m still worried about her with this damn federation. Rubiales and Vilda are gone, but it’s still a basket of rotten crabs. I already know a lot and I’m sure she didn’t tell me everything so I wouldn’t worry too much for her."

Leah reluctantly nodded, the difficulties faced by the Spanish national team broke out after the World Cup final. She learned it at the same time as the rest of the world and it was a real general shock.

"I can understand. But they’re together and that’s a good thing, right? They know they are supported now, I don’t think they can make things worse now that everyone knows"

Lucy answers only with an unconvinced grunt.

"Putellas and the others are there to watch over the younger ones, including Ona" Leah gently recalls.

Lucy sighs softly and lets herself go against the back of her seat this time, relaxing a little. Leah is right, she knows full well that Alexia or even Irene and Jenni wouldn't let anyone harm one of the other players. But they can’t be everywhere every time either. Lucy asked Ona to stay as close as Alexia as she can.

"I know that… but it’s my job to look after her" mumbles Lucy.

Glancing at the blonde, Lucy realizes she is smiling. But it's not a mocking smile, rather a kind of soft smile.

"What?" made Lucy, a little defensive

"Nothing. It’s sweet to see how much you care about her"

Lucy prefers to roll her eyes and take her phone out of her pocket, although a smile comes to soften her face. Yeah, of course she cares about her girlfriend. Leah is a close friend of Keira’s, but seems to have accepted their breakup without taking sides with either of them. It makes sense that she exchanges more with Keira since they are best friends, but that never prevented her from having a good relationship with Lucy.

The smile of the English girl however quickly fades noticing that if she has several notifications, none of them bear the name of her girlfriend.

Lucy ❤️‍🔥 Ona, I swear, if I don’t hear from you in ten minutes, I’ll show up at your hotel, I don’t care.

She isn't joking. To pass the time, Lucy excuses herself to Leah to go get something to drink. Their diet being monitored given the circumstances, Lucy opts for a banana-kiwi smoothie. However, they have nothing of the taste of those that Ona makes her every morning at home in Barcelona. And, when it's only two minutes left, Lucy finally feels her phone vibrate in her pocket.

Hoping that it's indeed Ona and not her mother, Lucy takes a quick glance on the screen, sighing of relief when seeing the name of her girlfriend appear. Without any hesitation, Lucy picks up and relaxes a little while seeing Ona’s face appear on the screen of her phone.

"Where the hell were you?"

It was harsher than she wanted, and Ona makes a slight grimace when hearing Lucy’s tone but decides not to hold it against her, knowing that there is only worry behind this reaction.

"We had a meeting that went on forever, I'm sorry"

Lucy sniff and Ona smile softly, lying on the bed of her hotel room.

"I’m so sorry. I went to my room as fast as I could, the others are still downstairs. But everything is fine" assures Ona, that Lucy listens only with one ear, distracted by the long hair and the brunette that scatters around her head. "Where are you?"

"In the cafeteria. The others are in the TV room but Ella was starting to get on my nerves" confesses the English, making Ona smile.

The brunette knows Ella well, and Alessia too, since they all played for Manchester United before Ona went to Barcelona and Alessia to Arsenal. She is therefore perfectly aware of Ella’s behavior and character, even if it never bothered her personally.

"What was she doing?"

"Nothing" Lucy replies, rolling her eyes.

Noticing that her girlfriend’s bad mood persists, Ona rolls on her stomach and looks more closely at Lucy through the screen. It’s been three weeks since they saw each other, even if their hotels are not even one kilometer from each other. Nothing more frustrating in the eyes of the two young women.

"Qué pasa mi Vida?" asks Ona affectionately.

"I miss you" Lucy says in a low voice. "I can't sleep when you’re not with me"

"I miss you too. I can’t wait to be on holiday and having you only for me"

"I’ll be so glued to you that you’d be sick of me" Lucy smirks

"There’s no way I can ever get sick of you. I miss you too much. You will be the one asking for air"

"I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you. You’ll be lucky if you can take two steps without my hands on you."

"Cant' wait for it"

Lucy hum for any answer, without leaving Ona’s face with her eyes. The two young women planned a two-week trip to Fiji after the Olympics Games, wishing to be able to meet and relax before returning home to Barcelona.

"You look tired too" Lucy notes after a few seconds.

"Being away from me changes you, usually you tell me how beautiful I am" Ona tease her.

Lucy laughs softly while shaking her head and Ona can only smile when hearing the young woman relax a little.

"I said you looked tired, not ugly" Lucy objects.

"Yeah. I liked it better when you threatened to come to my hotel to see me"

"Don’t tempt me" sighs Lucy.

Ona just sent her a sad smile, leaning her chin on her hand.

"Don’t look at me like that" whispers Lucy.

"Like what?"

"You know very well what I mean"

Ona gently shrugs her shoulders, biting her lower lip. She always try to make good figure while talking to her, but learning that Lucy miss her too didn't help.

"I sleep badly without you, too" ended up confessing Ona. "Your sweater almost doesn’t smell like you anymore"

"Okay, that’s enough" Lucy abruptly said as she jump from the stool she was on.

"What are you doing?" asks Ona, surprised by Lucy’s behavior.

But the Spaniard receives no response, finding herself suddenly in the belly pocket of Lucy’s sweatshirt. Various noises giving her no explanation or even the slightest clue about what is happening are heard, before the communication is cut off.

Ona 🧡 Lucy what the hell are you doing?

But Ona doesn't get the slightest answer and it's suddenly her turn to be worried and nervous by not getting news of her girlfriend. She asks herself if she should call one of her english friend but she decided to give Lucy some minutes.

Deciding to go to the bathroom to change her mind, Ona puts on a t-shirt that she borrowed from Lucy (without really asking to be fair) and undertakes to brush her hair, then her teeth. She didn't plan to leave her room anyway and Aitana with whom she shares her room saw her less dressed than that more than once.

However, the Catalan girl’s eyebrows frown a little when she hears knocks at the door. Ona takes the time to finish tying her hair in a bun for the night before going to answer. This doesn't seem to suit the person behind the door since new knocks are being made, stronger and more pressing this time.

"Llego" Ona says in Spanish, feeling a strange sensation in her stomach.

She still remembers Vilda’s unexpected visits a few months ago but she tries to reason in the short seconds before she opens the door to her room. But Vilda is no longer there, so there is no risk that this will happen, right?

Her face is however slightly anxious when she opens the door, quickly relaxing when she sees Lucy’s face. Before she realized Lucy had no reason to be here. But she doesn’t have time to ask her a single question before Lucy sneaks inside, fearing to be surprised by someone else.

Relieved to finally be safe, the Englishwoman turns to Ona who has meanwhile closed the door of her bedroom before hugging her. The Catalan responds quickly to herembrace, passing her arms around Lucy. Her face in the hollow of her neck allows Lucy to find the perfume and smell of Ona she loves.

"Lucia if they catch you…" ended up whispering Ona, without breaking away from her girlfriend.

"I don’t care. You're worth it"

Lucy’s voice is masked by Ona’s hair, which makes her smile.

"I missed you so much" sighs Lucy, slowly detaching herself from Ona.

But the youngest doesn't seem to hear it from this ear since she tightens her arms around Lucy, the latter still so surprised to remember the strength of her girlfriend, despite their difference of size of a few centimeters.

"Ona" laughs softly Lucy

But Ona shakes her head negatively, continuing to refuse to release her girlfriend and puts her head in the hollow of her neck.

"Let me at least look at you" the Englishwoman asked, which Ona finally accepted not without pouting.

Ona supports Lucy’s gaze when she gently takes her face in her hands, observing her attentively for a few seconds.

"That’s what I thought. Tired, but still beautiful"

Ona laughs softly as she hears her, her giggles causing as every time strange tickles in the pit of Lucy’s stomach. Using their position, Lucy delicately draws Ona’s face against hers to unfold a kiss on her lips.

Without losing a second, Ona puts her arms around her neck and it takes them only a fraction of a second to get lost both in their embrace. Forgetting that they are not in the security of their apartment, their many kisses eventually lead them to Ona's bed who doesn't hesitate to rid Lucy of her sweatshirt before starting to kiss her again.

It's only when the door of the room reopens that the two young women regain consciousness of things. But it’s obviously already too late. Luckily, both are still dressed.

"Ona?!"

Needless to say, Aitana didn't expect to find her roommate in an intense makout session. Especially since she's supposed to be in a relationship and that her partner is in another hotel. But Ona barely has time to hear the amazement in Aitana’s voice and to see the surprised look of Alexia behind her, before Lucy gets up a little under her, revealing her identity to the other two young women.

"Madre mía what's happening here?" asks Alexia

"You both are so in trouble" smirks Aitana.

"Shhh" makes Ona while leaning forward, to be sure that the door of the room is properly closed.

********

It took long minutes of discussion for Lucy and Ona to find themselves alone in the room, Aitana going to sleep with Alexia for the night. Even if the Catalan knows perfectly well that she will have the right to be teased until the end of the Games, she doesn't care if it allows her to spend a night in her girlfriend's arms.

"Ona?" gently makes Lucy

It takes a few seconds for the Spanish to react, her mind a little shut between the recovery after their intense and long reunion and the caresses that Lucy makes with her fingertips along her spine column. Not to mention the regular heartbeat of Lucy right under her ear that lulls her.

"Mh?" ended up answering Ona in a bewitched voice, without opening her eyes.

"Why did you seem worried earlier?"

"You know how Aitana can be when she’s surprised. I already saw Jenni coming and if she knows, everyone will know" says Ona mumbling, burying her face in her girlfriend’s belly. "They will tease me for all the rest of the stay tho"

"Yeah, I know" laughs Lucy gently before talking again. "But that’s not what I was thinking about."

Lucy feels Ona’s eyebrows frown against her skin before the fullback turns her face so she can look at her.

"I don’t understand then" Ona said, looking closely at Lucy’s face.

"When you came to open the door earlier, you seemed worried"

"Oh"

In a few seconds Ona’s mind goes back to what she thought at that moment, the constant discomfort and worry that inhabited the Spanish players. The surprise visits in the rooms, supposedly to check that their environment was healthy, diets without any senses, comments displaced and degrading in front of others… If the players came together - at least most of them - it was a lot of fun for the high-ranking players and their little friends.

Ona and Lucy had been dating for a few months when Ona went to training camps with the national team and then during the World Cup. If Ona had already told her parents and her brother about the situation, Lucy knew nothing about it until the Spanish woman told her about it one evening on the phone, after a particularly hard day morally.

Lucy’s reaction was as strong as her surprise and it actually happened to Ona not to tell her everything so as not to push her concern too much, wishing that her girlfriend could focus as much as possible on her own career.

But Ona’s silence is far from reassuring Lucy, who stands up on her elbows in bed, forcing Ona to also sit on her legs.

"Did something happen again?"

"No" assures Ona, shaking her head. "Promised"

Tenderly smiling, Ona gently caress her girlfriend’s cheeks with her fingertips. The green eyes of the English look at her carefully, seeking to detect the slightest sign that could tell her the opposite of what Ona claims. Understanding that it will take more for Lucy to be reassured, Ona sits on her legs before resuming the speech.

"It’s not as bad as before. I just wondered who it could be and it reminded me of what we were going through before this summer."

Lucy’s frowning doesn't seem to relax but the other brunette has a little trouble understanding why. Ona doesn’t need to open her mouth though, as Lucy ends up answering her questions with a small sigh.

"I know how you think and I know you probably didn’t tell me everything so I wouldn’t worry anymore" said Lucy, Ona blushing at it. "But I think it worries me even more. I need to know, Ona."

It’s hard for Ona to deny Lucy anything in general, but when she looks at her that way, it’s almost impossible. It's Ona’s turn to sigh softly, watching her girlfriend attentively. The latter rises to sit in turn, a hand in the back of Ona to prevent her falling because of her movement.

"I know that you want to do well and that you seek to protect me, but I too need to protect you"

"Okay" sighs softly Ona after a few extra seconds of hesitation.

After a smile, Lucy tenderly puts her lips on those of Ona, sealing the promise made.

"I don’t know how I’m going to let you go tomorrow morning" said Ona, after Lucy lay down again, taking her against her. "Maybe I’ll lock you up here until the Games are over."

Lucy laughs softly, trying to ignore the breath of Ona who tickles her neck when she speaks.

"Why don’t you start by getting rid of your apartment in Barcelona instead? It’s useless except to store furniture. Coco must have slept there four times since you got her"

Ona smiles softly at the evocation of her dog, guarded by her favorite cousins. Her parents had made the trip to Paris to see her play, it would not have made sense for them to keep her.

"Maybe yes" thoughtfully say Ona by mechanically sliding her finger on Lucy's arm.

"If you don't want to..."

"No! I want it. I'm just wondering how I can put all my stuff in your apartment. Maybe I "

"Well... Maybe we can look for a bigger one?" ask Lucy before adding when she feels Ona freeze before looking at her. "Like our apartment or maybe house so when can have a garden for the dogs"

"I'd love that" Ona smiles despite her eyes fogged with tears.

Lucy smiles and kiss her sweetly. Ona doesn’t know yet that Lucy has already unconsciously looked at apartments and houses in the neighborhood in which they already live, but it is a secret that she will tell her when they are both on vacation in Fiji.

The most urgent thing is to get Lucy out of the hotel before everyone gets up the next morning. They will have only slept a few hours, but it is well worth it in the opinion of the two young women. Their separation is only brief now, but that won’t stop them from spending long minutes saying goodbye, just like the day Lucy flew to the training camp with the England team.

"See you soon Superstar" Lucy whispers against Ona’s lips, smiling and feeling her smile against her lips.

"Shut up" smiled Ona before putting a new kiss against her lips.

Managed to leave the Spanish hotel without being spotted, it's facing Mary and Alessia walking for their morning walk that Lucy finds herself arriving in the English hotel. Long story short, it's not only Ona who will be teased until the end of the Games.

[jellied-milk]

NSFW ALPHABET: JOHN MARSTON

MINORS DNI // 18+ ONLY

🍂

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

• a little quiet, using the moment to catch his breath and adjust himself.

• he’d probably clean you with the closest thing to him (his bandanna, whatever clothes surround you).

• will pull you under his arm and caress your waist while enjoying the silence.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

• John probably has low self esteem because of his scars so he doesn’t really think of himself as attractive.

• ( likes his hands and fingers when teasing you during foreplay: “ Hmm, this pussy gets so tight roun’ my fingers.” ).

• Your breasts!! no matter the size, shape, or color, he will definitely grab them any chance he gets.

• Loves to lay his head between them when you two are alone!!

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

• will definitely come close to cumming inside you sometimes.

• cums on your chest because he loves seeing his spend drip down your nipples, off your breasts, on your thighs.

• (^^ especially if you’re holding your breast and his cum gets on your fingers!!).

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

• wants to cum inside because he wants to feel your pussy milk his cock while being fully wrapped in your warmth.

• LOVES when you beg and whine a little during sex. (when you say to him, “mmm, you’re so big inside me!!” , “oh John, please fuck me faster!).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

• Yes, but I don’t think he’s very confident in his abilities.

• Learned through working girls in whatever town was closest to camp in his wild and adventurous youth. (obviously excluding Abigail from this)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

• The Pretzel Drip!!

• Fucking your leaking heat as you look in his eyes while he plays with your breasts, pinching your nipples.

• Spreads your legs wild open so he can lean over your body and nip on your nipples while fucking you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

• Probably starts with some snarky remarks that get outta hand between you two and he gets flustered then takes you somewhere more private.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

• probably average based on his hair length and stubble.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

• cautious and definitely waits for you to give him signals to keep going or stop, (especially when you guys first start sleeping together).

• focuses on you more during foreplay because he loves teasing you and gets a little pussy-drunk when inside you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

• Simple answer, no. John would probably wait until you two are alone.

• BUT… if you’re gone on a job or hunt and he’s been drinking that night??

• He’ll fantasize about you, thinking about your little noises and slick heat. Quickly snaps out of it and rushes to his tent. Palms himself before impatiently pulling out his cock.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

• Cockwarming: LOVES having you completely wrapped himself and feeling your wet pussy clenched down

• Teasing: not necessarily him making fun of you but more so YOUR reactions to him and what he says.

• Titjob: when he’s sitting down and you’re kneeling in front of him, jerking your breasts up and down his cock while lickin his tip, it will take everything in him not to bust.

• Exhibitionism: in the form of quickies in the sense that, if John sees a chance with you in an alleyway, secluded train car, or in the open woods.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

• In a real bed preferably at a hotel or cabin, so you guys can also be away from the gang for total privacy.

• (but if the opportunity presents itself, he’ll snatch it so damn fast).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

• Honestly, attention from you turns him on, ( gets in his own head and likes when you ground him).

• if you wear a shirt/dress with a low-cut or a few top buttons undone, he can’t help but stare before noticing he’s hard.

• When you’re a little mad because then when you two fuck, you’ll be on top and he’ll be playing with your breasts, (win-win in his eyes).

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

• Causing any pain to the point where it actually harms you (would feel very guilty and somewhat reclusive about sex until you reassure him).

• Anything that would de-masculine him, (because he’s a bit self conscious) so pegging or being tied up.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

• personally receiving because he loves it when your tongue twists around his shaft (thinks your mouth feels so nice and warm, and whines a little when he hits the back of your throat).

• If he’s giving then his tongue will go down to your opening and tease it then clamps his mouth around your clit, harshly sucking on it before devouring you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

• Usually faster because he gets off to your noises and breasts bouncing up and down. He works you open with fingers while teasing your clit, making sure you’re dripping before shoving his cock inside you and setting a quick rhythm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

• happens when there’s a safe opportunity.

• he LOVES them because he can be in any mood and feel instantly better if he gets to feel you dripping down him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

• With both your lifestyles, you two constantly are risking your necks, so I don’t think so.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

• He can last about 3-4 rounds before needing a break.

• Usually holds himself off and waits for you to finish at least once or twice before he cums.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

• it’s 1899, so no.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

• When fingering you, he LOVES to tease since he lives for the noises you make, the feeling of your hot, slick pussy between his fingers, your hands gripping his arm and blankets.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

• He really does try to be quiet when you guys are in camp.

• But alone: the sound of grunts, raspy pants and his teasing can be heard among you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

• Whenever you whine, sometimes John teases your moans with a “yeah?” In a deep raspy voice.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

• 7 ½ inches, average thickness with prominent veins

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

• Pretty average and would get higher after you guys are together.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

• Either stays awake longer than you do, thinking about you, whatever’s happening to the gang, or himself

• Or instantly curls beside you so he can feel your warmth and softness against him.

[comfortless]

syl. *grabs you and shakes you* syl. i woke up in a cold sweat thinking of like… könig. already off to a great start ik. but space opera könig. (not like star wars or anything) but think like 70s aesthetics all bright and colorful. he’s a bandit in a stolen ship, formerly part of a military group making peace with other planets but something went awry and he’s just having fun now!

reader is part of a small research group that has landed on a planet he’s camped out on and he’s just like “ok” followed by “i want that”. steals all of her supplies and then her. doesn’t care how much she protests when he just hauls her over his shoulder, pats her butt bc he thinks THATS going to calm her down and throws her into his ship.

she’s happy he’s not some creepy alien but at the same time who really knows what’s under that hood anyway hmmmm and she wants to hate him but also all that’s playing in her head is that one rah band song. messages from the stars lmao please. there is something in the way you write that is so special to me and if you were to come up with a full blown story for my dumb idea i think i would scream for 20 hours straight.

lil wisp….. you have no idea what this has done to me. i am going to be thinking about this for an eternity. let’s cook.. i see your vision and i would love nothing more than this too!!

content/warnings: implied violence, abduction, dubcon groping?

König’s been on his own, drifting through the stars for so long. Only raiding the ships he comes across for food, supplies, and when he stumbles across a mechanic he puts them to work with a silly laser rifle pointed right at their head (because let’s face it— when you’re a wanted space pirate who in the universe is going to fix your ship for you??). He’s put all of human etiquette far behind him, and now his life is quite literally just one relentless adventure. He wouldn’t have it any other way!

That is, until his ship is fucked up again, displaying about thirty bright red warnings on its silly hologram screens that he just can not make sense of. The thing is old, has been shot at more times than even he can count, and it’s finally failing him if the loud sputtering and incessant orbital beeps are anything to go by. He considers his luck has run out when he lands the damned thing on some hunk of rock out on the outskirts of a galaxy most don’t even bother with, because there’s nothing out here.

Thankfully, his frustration is short-lived because a smaller ship lands only a few days later; painted in the bright, pearlescent blues and pinks of your standard peace-keeping, research vessel. It’s the perfect craft to steal and it wouldn’t even be difficult… the three humans that exit are so much smaller than him and entirely unguarded. They’re just here to study a few minerals, maybe haul some back to their little camp a few worlds over for fuel and research. He won’t even get into too much trouble for it, he thinks, because even his trashed ship could take them back home. See!! He isn’t all that bad…

At least, until he notices her, bent over admiring some silly, little cluster of crystals in her skin-tight jumpsuit that makes him see stars. The heavy boots that rise up to her knees making her look like little more than a fauness, and she’s so pretty he just can’t help but get a closer look while her teammates are off chittering away and exploring the nothing planet.

She isn’t even afraid of him when he approaches. Just straightens up with her hands clasped in front of her and a smile on her face. She hasn’t seen the holograms of him, displaying a sizable bounty for his veiled head, doesn’t take a wary note of the massive rifle he has slung over his shoulder; she just sees another person. He hasn’t been looked at like that since long before he left home!!

This sweet woman has no sense of self-preservation either, because she immediately asks him if he needs food or water; gestures over to her brightly colored ship with that pretty smile ever-present on her face, and that’s all it takes for him to decide that not only is he taking the craft, he’s taking her too.

He doesn’t say a word when he lifts her up over his shoulder, and the poor thing must be shocked because it takes her a moment before she starts squirming in his grip. König does well to remove the little radio strapped to her hip, giving her ass a firm squeeze in the process before tossing it in the dust behind him. That’s all it takes to shut his little prinzessin up before he hauls her back into her ship and demands she turn off any tracking systems. Her knees are a bit weak when she fumbles with the control panels, and he’s unashamed of his own erection when he slides in behind her to lean over the console as the ship starts up.

She whines about leaving her friends stranded, of course, but he’s in a world of his own when he grabs her by the hips and seats her in his lap while she pilots. Never mind the others, he’ll take good care of her, honest!!